Forgetful Forest
by Ms.Redrum
Summary: Eventually Sherlock Holmes had to admit to himself that he'd lost his killer. When he turned to ask John where he thought the man might have run off to he was struck silent. He had; much to his horror, lost his blogger as well. That had been hours ago.


They had been chasing a man through a mirror, into the Doctor's Tardis. Without even pausing to stop and wonder why the mirror had led them here they were off after the man. It was a confusing maze of rooms and hallways. They kept getting turned around and had to double back more than once when finding themselves at a dead end. Eventually Sherlock Holmes had to admit to himself that he'd lost his killer.

When he turned to ask John where he thought the man might have run off to he was struck silent.

He had; much to his horror, lost his blogger as well.

That had been hours ago.

* * *

It's hard to think; covered in blood and holding what appeared to be the murder weapon, that you hadn't killed someone.

The problem was though, that John didn't remember killing anyone. He didn't remember wanting to kill someone, he didn't remember not wanting to kill someone. He didn't remember where the knife in his hand had come from. He didn't remember how he got where he was. He didn't even know _where_ he was.

To put it shortly, he didn't remember much of anything at all.

He sat against a large oak tree and looked around; trees, nothing but trees. He looked for a blood trail but couldn't see one in the dark. The moon covered over by clouds left the forest he sat in plunged in darkness. He almost got up from his spot when he realized his phone was clutched in his hand; currently in the middle of a two hour long call. He lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"John!" Answered him from the other end.

The voice was sharp but rough, as if he had been screaming. He sounded relieved that John had spoken though so that was a good sign.

"Who's this?"

Silence answered him.

"Hello?" John couldn't keep the panic he was starting to feel out of his voice.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, do you know where you are?" The voice spoke again, sounding nothing like before; cold and stiff. Something about that name tugged at his mind. Whatever it was that had been floating there at the tip of his mind was gone in an instant, replaced by a sudden feeling of cold dread as the stars began to peek out from behind the clouds. Now wasn't the time to dwell on whatever it had been.

"No, all I can see are trees."

"Do you know how you got there?"

"No I- I just woke up here-"

That didn't sound right. Did he wake up? He doesn't remember waking up so much as suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings.

"I think I woke up." He amended. "What's going on? Where am I?" He questioned the mystery man.

"That doesn't matter-"

He can't help it really, he's alone covered in blood and terrified for reasons he can't seem to remember. He begins to shout.

"YES! Yes it does bloody matter! It matters because I'm sitting against a tree in the middle of some god forsaken forest covered in blood and I don't remember how I got here or why I'm here or why-"

"STOP."

That single word, demanded of him by someone he doesn't even know, causes his jaw to snap shut.

"Have you calmed yourself?" The man asks after a beat of silence. John huffs out a hysterical laugh.

"No I have bloody well not calmed myself; I won't be calm until I'm home with a nice cuppa." He realizes then, that he doesn't even know where home is. When he tries to think about it, all he can picture is a human skull sitting on someone's mantle.

"Soon."

"Soon? What the hell-" He stops. The sound of twigs snapping brings everything into full focus. "I'm not alone out here, am I?" He doesn't know why it comes out as a question. Doesn't know why he thinks the man on the other end of the phone will know, but he does.

"No, you're not."

"Is it friendly?" Realizes he's called the thing an It. Not a person or an animal, but an it. What did that even mean? He uses the tree behind him to climb to his feet. He didn't feel it before but now he feels all the aches of his body. How long has he been out here?

"No."

"Should I run?"

Silence.

The thing is getting closer; his feeling of dread is replaced by sharp almost painful fear.

"Should. I. Run?" He hisses out. He swears if the man doesn't answer he is going to run anyways.

The noise stops not ten feet from where he stands. He can't see anything, can't hear anything. That's when he notices how truly silent everything is. No bats, no birds, no bugs. Not even a breeze.

He clutched the sleek knife in his hand tighter.

"Go right." Barely a whisper, more like a breath of air, but as soon as he hears it he bolts.

* * *

_**i want to say, to all my Once Upon a Skull followers. I am sorry ;-;**_  
_**I swear i will update soon.**_  
_**I am almost done with the next bit... i just kinda got side tracked. By Pacific rim... and This plot... and another Avengers plot... and yeah i'm like a puppy "Squirrel!" ing all over the place. But IT Is AlmOst DonE.**_


End file.
